


Prime Nocte

by tersa (alix)



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot, Porn, Post-Game(s), Sweet, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-19
Updated: 2011-08-19
Packaged: 2017-10-22 20:20:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/242186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alix/pseuds/tersa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian Vael and Marian Hawke waited years for each other, and now they're finally able to consummate their relationship on their wedding night, with all the jitters that entails.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prime Nocte

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LiveJournal in June 2011

Sebastian had been waiting for this moment for months. Years. Now that it was here, butterflies were attacking his belly, making him quake under the hand of the Grand Cleric. “May the Maker and his bride bless you and your union,” she finished the benediction, lifting her hand from his bowed head. She smiled, but she was a stranger, and the nod he gave back was one of cool reserve. Doing so, then watching her and the witnesses depart, did give him an excuse not to look at Marian until the door clicked shut behind them. Already, his groin was stirring, even while his nerves jangled. When he glanced at her shyly, desire hit him like a blow that knocked the wind from his lungs.

He thought her always beautiful, in the simple clothes she favored or bloodied in armor, flush from combat, but the wedding dress made her stunning. The dressmakers had found a shade of red for her that was rich rather than sanguine against the ivory paleness of her skin, her black hair, and vivid blue eyes. Her chest swelled over the cinching of her corset, breathing quickened as she watched him in return. She turned her back, glancing at him over her shoulder, a half-smile playing on her lips. “Help me undress?”

His heart pounded, and he felt an answering throb in his manhood already pushing against his breeks. He covered up the dryness of his mouth with a chuckle that turned into a soft cough. “Am I lady’s maid, too?” he asked, as he found the fastenings of her overskirt and unbuttoned them.

“You don’t have to,” she said with a blush staining her cheeks. “I just thought…”

He touched her bare shoulders, and she trailed off. “I was teasing,” he said gently. “There is nothing more I would rather do then get you out of all these clothes.”

Her laugh was high-pitched and betrayed her own nervousness. “There is a rather lot of them, isn’t there?” she asked, kicking at the heavy hem to poof it in front of her. “I should consider wearing all this instead of steel, it might do a better job.”

He deliberately drew his hands down her back to her waist, peeling the crimson velvet away from the petticoats to pool around her feet. Gallantly, he offered her his hand so she could step out of them, while saying, “I think it would take longer to gird yourself this way.”

The laughter this time was more natural. “True.” Her hand strayed into the voluminous folds of the underskirt and pulled from them a slender stiletto, that she brandished at him briefly before flipping it to offer him hilt first.

The object and the motion took him aback. “What’s this for?” he asked, accepting it with a frown.

Her hands scraped up her head to gather the long tendrils of hair hanging loose, exposing the soft nape of her neck. Looking at him sidelong over her shoulder, she answered “From Aveline. For the bodice. She said we’d want it by the time we got here. The knife would be easier than undoing all the laces. Ribbon can be replaced.”

His hands trembled as he neared her, not helped by the cloud of her scent that met his nose when he touched her back with his hand. “I am not inexperienced,” he said, talking to cover his nervousness as he slid the thin blade under bottommost cross of the laces. He twisted, putting the tension of the ribbon against the keen edge, and it parted with a snap that Marian jumped at, leaving her shivering. Up one cross point, and he said, “But it has been a long time.” The second point of the laces fell away, and the back of the corset began straining open. His pulse galloped. “And never with a woman I love.” The third pressure point snapped, leaving only the top to go. “Never with my wife.” _Wife_. It was the first time he’d said the word aloud, and he tasted it, savored it. The final point gave, and the corset burst open as she heaved in a deep breath. He put the knife aside then his hands on the chemise underneath, running them up her shoulder blades to the shoulders themselves, then down her arms, shedding the bodice into a pile on the floor. Her froth of petticoats crushed against him when he leaned closer to her, feeling the goose flesh rise against her arms under his caress, fine hairs stirring as he exhaled down the column of her neck that she bent to him as he passed.

“I have never with a husband,” she said with breathy amusement, hand moving from her hair to his in a touch that sent a jolt through him. “That makes us even.”

His restraint crumbled, and he sobbed as he kissed her neck, his hands leaving her arms to curl around her waist, splaying across her belly above the waistband of the remaining skirts. She inhaled sharply and leaned her head against his as he kissed a hungry path up her throat to her ear, breath rattling in his lungs as he suckled on the lobe. Up his hands went, callused fingertips catching on the silky fabric, rippling and tugging as they passed, until they curved over the swells of her breasts, finding the nipples large and hard against his palms, and she moaned. He squeezed, then played with the nubs until she was pressing her body against his, her hand clutching the back of his head.

Maker, he wanted her, but not with the blinding need that filled him now. He shuddered and dropped his hands back to her waist and his mouth to her shoulder, breathing hard and trying to quell the shaking of his muscles. “What’s wrong?” she asked with confusion, covering one of his arms with her own.

“Nothing,” he answered, voice thick with arousal. “I just…don’t want to take you all at once.”

Her hand dragged up his wrist and forearm, sending tendrils of pleasure through the light covering of hair. “What if I _wanted_ you to take me all at once?”

An involuntary groan escaped him, the sound reverberating into the muscle of her shoulder. “This is our wedding night, I want it to be…special.”

She turned, forcing him to loosen his grip until she’d re-settled facing him, pressed against his chest. Her hands went to the back of his neck and he inhaled sharply, eyes closing momentarily at the sensation. They opened again when she said, “It’s our first time, it’s going to be special no matter what.”

He dove in to kiss her, mouth yielding against hers, parting as her tongue quested out to find his, joined in a dance of their own as his hands roamed down to explore her back under the slick fabric of the chemise adding another level of sensation. He left her mouth once more to travel down her throat, lips and teeth marking a trail down to her collarbone, then lower, until skin gave way to tissue-thin silk that didn’t stop him, until he took her nipple into his mouth through the fabric, dampening it, to the music of her breath catching. His hand cupped her other breast, thumb stroking in time with his tongue, until her nails dug into his shoulders, dragging him back up again.

Picking up the knife with a playful smirk, she put it to the laces of his jerkin and drew it up, as tauntingly slow as he had to her, parting and tugging at the cord and forcing him to remain very still except for the rapid rise and fall of his chest until she reached the top and the last shred fell away. With a sweep of her hands, she skinned it from his shoulders to deposit it on the floor, then tossed the blade aside again to grab at the hem of his undertunic before he could take her in his arms again, peeling that off as well. He took the trews himself, unfastening them hurriedly and pushing them down his legs with her help, her hands skimming over his hips and ass and making him gasp, then kicked them off along with the soft boots.

He was hard, his cock curving up to his belly, and she eyed it with a soft 'o' of her mouth and an expression of wanting that he twitched just looking at her. She began to reach to touch it, and he caught her wrist, feeling the cords move under his fingers. “If you do that,” he said in a husky voice, “I won’t be able to control myself.”

Her tone was smoke and fire when she asked, “Why would I want you to?”

He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed the palm, then more amorously, nuzzling and licking and rubbing it along his face, hand sliding down to the elbow, until she was quivering up her arm. He breathed in deeply and dropped it, willing for patience. “Turn around, let me get your skirts off you.”

“There’s no need,” she said. “Lie down.”

“But—”

She raised a hand to his chest and pushed him back towards the bed. “Trust me.”

“I do,” he breathed, and she smiled. He clambered into the bed, back against the headboard, reaching for her as she crawled in after him in a pile of muslin and lace. Gathering the fabric up in her arms, she flashed her strong white calves, then her thighs as she straddled him, and he curved a hand around them before she dropped the petticoats on him like a cloud. She smiled crookedly as his hands slid up, up her legs to her ass, eyes widening to find it bare beneath all the layers. “You—“

Her hips lowered slowly, and he gulped when her slick wet folds found the head of his cock, sliding against it. “Isabela’s idea,” she whispered in a dreamy voice. He began guiding her, under all that fabric, rooting in the hot wetness of her sex to find the well, breath coming in sighing pants. Her hands went to his shoulders to steady herself. “So we didn’t have to wait to get everything off—“ the end of her sentence cut off with a sharp cry as he drove into her burying himself to the hilt in one thrust.

It was all he could do not to come right then and there, gritting his teeth, his breath whistling between them as he sucked in his breath, but even though he was still, her hips were moving, beginning to rock against the rigid flesh filling her. She was sliding around him, stroking him with her inner self, and he was unraveling. He curled one hand around her waist, anchoring her as she rose up and slid back down again, falling into her rhythm with thin moans, but he brought his other hand out from under the heated pile to cover her breast, fondling and pinching the nipple into turgid hardness against the chemise until the moving silk became it’s own source of stimulation as her tempo increased. She was whimpering now, a thready, needy noise that turned into tiny cries as she worked herself on him. The pressure was building in him to almost unbearable levels, and his throaty groans joined hers, until with one last shove and a cry, she came, the contractions of her release massaging his member in violent waves. He let go then, giving in to the building crescendo of his own lust for the first time in years, and bucked under her, driving into her hard as his seed exploded from him, filling her in the throes of his climax.

His mind reeled with disorientation in the aftermath of his orgasm, the power of it, and he sagged heavily back to the bed. When she pulled away from him, he didn’t stop her, grateful, in fact, for the respite from touch on his hypersensitive skin. With an effort, he opened his eyes to slits and watched as she twisted the petticoats around to bring the fasteners to the front, unknotting them slowly with trembling fingers and dropping them to the floor, followed by the chemise, to reveal her nakedness to him for the first time and the wet curls between her thighs. His nostrils flared at an inhale as he drank her in, as she stepped with no concern for his reaction to the pitcher and wash bowl on the side table, pouring water into the bowl and dipping a cloth in it to begin cleaning herself off.

He found the will to stir then, hitching himself off the mattress to come up behind her, hands resting lightly on her shoulders in a possessive gesture. She threw him a lazy, satiated smile, then half-turned towards him. A look, a tilt of her head, a twist of her wrist, and she asked a silent question that he answered with a bare nod, and she wet the cloth again and brought it between his thighs, stroking the skin, a gesture more intimate in his mind than the sex they’d just shared. When she’d finished, she tossed the cloth into the cloudy water of the bowl, and he encircled her waist with his arms, pulling her against him bare. “I don’t know if I should be embarrassed or grateful to Aveline and Isabela,” he murmured into her hair, basking in the simple glow of her presence.

She chuckled. “Be grateful.” She ducked her head to find his mouth, kissing him in slow but thorough fashion until a renewed desire smoldered to life in his chest. He inhaled deeply when she broke away. “I would never have been able to wait until this point. But, now that we’re here,” her fingertips trailed along the curve of his shoulder blade, sending a frisson down his spine. “Ready to take our time?”


End file.
